Angel Feathers and Drops of Beer
by Arisprite
Summary: A collection of oneshots, drabbles and musings set in the Supernatural universe. A mix of angst, h/c, whump and fluff. Much bromance here to be had, as well. Mostly scribbled down at work, so a result of boredom and sadism, read at your own risk!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Sentence Ficlets

Author: Arisprite

Summary & A/N: The challenge, to take a random prompt list(found and then lost on the internet, sorry if it belongs to you!) , and write only one sentence for each, with each one telling a story or a moment as evocatively as possible. I got this idea from the Sherlock Holmes fandom (namely KCS, if she ever happens on this) years ago, and I thought I'd try it here. It was rather fun! Beware bad grammar, run on sentences, and very very vague language.

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16: Strawberries  
To Dean's great disappointment, and after much experimentation, Cas decided his favorite pie was the "sissy flavor" of strawberry rhubarb.

22. Blood  
"Feel better?" Dean asked a sheepish Cas; that sudden anger had only left embarrassment as he watched red seep from Dean's nose.

7. Muse  
The only part of Dean that looked human anymore, after the ravages of Hell, the tortures (both given and inflicted) the years of agony, were his green eyes; they never left Castiel as he pieced the man back together, body and soul.

6. Blackbird  
There was a rough physical manifestation of wings, even while vessel bound, but Castiel's didn't used to be charred black with ashes.

17. Weapon  
Sam quickly learned better than to startle Dean in the days after Purgatory-he didn't have much of a desire to be threatened with a lamp and the hard edge of the motel welcome pamphlet.

5. Gloves  
There was a pack of unused latex gloves in their first aid kid, and Sam stared at it while Dean thrashed on the bed, his head burning with fever.

19. Lost  
The dust cleared, and Castiel quickly realized he was still on earth (rather than Heaven or Hell, both of which were dreaded possibilities with his ritual) and he turned to share a celebratory smile with Dean...but neither he nor Sam were in sight.

25. Search

Cursing the marks he himself at etched into their bones, Castiel scanned the battle field on multiple planes of reality, searching for the distinct Winchester aura.

13. Test

After hours, Castiel stood over the Winchesters, the aftermath of his screams of grief having flattened everything around him.

34. Impulse

Driven by some emotion, some need he couldn't explain, Castiel stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Dean; he was rewarded a moment later when Dean gripped back just as tight.

3. Funeral  
"Don't mind us!" Dean called, as the crowd of black garbed mourners scattered.

8. Magic  
It was pretty amazing: Cas still had his mojo in Purgatory, and no longer did he have to deal with long itchy healing, Cas just patched him up no problem.

33. Compromise  
"You are both sitting on the roof, if that's what I have to do to get some damn quiet in here!"

2. I'm Here  
Dean didn't let Bobby take Sam from him, didn't let his fingers slip from their grip around his brother; hand against neck, or head or arm, just in case Sam somehow got scared to be left alone, even in death.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Voice

Author: Arisprite

Summary: The day Castiel realized Dean was happy in Purgatory

A/N: Written for prompt 38. Voice of the sam list as the previous chapter. I don't own SPN, nor do I own Guns'n'Roses, Welcome to the Jungle, which is what Dean is singing.

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Dean was happy in Purgatory, Castiel realized one day. Yes, he was still fighting for his life most of the time, and searching for him the rest. He relentlessly looked and prayed, causing Castiel to have to hide from both Leviathan and Dean at times, but his prayers had tapered from desperation and terror to determination, drive and dare he say, enjoyment. Dean, even in the midst of the land of monsters, seemed to be at ease at times, in his element. The thoughts caused Castiel to feel a tangle of things he couldn't bear to examine closer, feelings he neither understood, nor wished to.

Therefore, he stuck to running, both from Dean himself and from the thoughts of how things were. Live, fight, survive were both of their mottos, only Dean seemed to be much better at it.

One day, Dean got too close, closer than he'd ever gotten. Castiel actually heard his voice before he realized, and was seconds from fleeing when he noticed that Dean was singing. At the top of his lungs, something wild and rumpus and fitting to the place. Castiel dared to look closer, and saw him, striding along like he hadn't a care in the world. He was sure Dean was not as oblivious to his surroundings as he seemed to be, but for the moment, he looked like he was walking through a park rather than this hell hole. It warmed something in Castiel to see him again, so obviously hale and whole.

The forest around them was quiet, seeming to listen to Dean's well toned voice as he sang out something about a jungle and sexy women. Castiel smiled; it was just so very...Dean.

Then a growl cut through his thoughts, and Castiel saw something stalking towards Dean, still a ways off, but coming closer. It was vaguely wolf like, and black and had no appreciation for Dean's talent. Dean would hear it in a moment, long before it became dangerous, but Castiel didn't want Dean to stop singing. He quietly slit the animal's throat, and then flew off, far away from any sign of Dean. He sat on a rock, and sighed. He couldn't allow Dean to get that close again. It was too hard to leave afterwards.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Hush

Author: Arisprite

Summary: Dean didn't answer the phone when Castiel called him from the hospital. Michael did.

A/N: Ok, this is sad. It's set in an AU of Two Minutes to Midnight, when Cas is in the hospital What if Dean had said yes? Cas called him, and Michael answered. This is the conversation that follows. Prompt from that same list, 35. Hush.

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Castiel dialed the number without thinking about it, and it was only as the phone began to ring that his drugged mind realized what he was doing. His stomach shot to his throat, and he fumbled to hang up, but his fingers were too slow. A voice answered on the other side, and Castiel felt a chill go through him, distorted as it was through the phones mechanisms. It was Dean's voice...but not Dean. Not in any way. There was an undercurrent of raw power, of angelic energy that even he could pick up in his diminished state. The echo of his brother's being seemed to burst from his vessel.

"Michael," Castiel said, in barely a whisper. An exhale of breath, of quiet amusement. he tried to stop himself from picturing the way Dean's face crinkled when he smiled.

"Castiel," Michael said, saying his name properly, the way Dean never did. "I had no idea you were still alive. You must be nigh on powerless to have escaped my notice like that.?"

Castiel swallowed, feeling his pain sharpen and every sensation increase until he wanted to scream. His throat was full, and there was no way he could get a word out, if there was even anything to say."

"No comment?" Michael continued, and then chuckled. Castiel took a slight comfort in the fact that he sounded nothing like

Dean when he laughed. "I suppose it must be hard for you, to hear using Dean's voice like this?" Michael almost sounded contemplative. Castiel found he was shaking.

"What you have to remember Cas, is that Dean agreed to this. He asked me, begged me to help. I'm only doing what your beloved human wanted,"

"He didn't want this..." Castiel choked out. There was a pause. False sympathy oozed through the silence.

"I don't think you knew Dean as well as you thought you did. He wanted this. He only fought for as long as he did out of a misplaced sense of shame and responsibility. Once he let go of that, and handed it all to me, he was happy to let me in. He was thankful."

Castiel remembered an echo of his own words to Dean.

'He's a devout man. He actually prayed for this.'

He knew now that that was a lie. Jimmy had no idea what he was agreeing to, and as Castiel seemed to be the only one in this hospital bed, he was probably dead now.

"So..." Michael trailed off, sounding so much like Dean for a moment that Castiel felt his eyes fill with tears. One fell as Michael continued to speak. "What now, Castiel? Will you join back with us, with your brothers and sisters? Or will you continue to resist what was meant to be?"

Castiel couldn't speak, couldn't answer, could barely breathe. Michael seemed to sense his distress, for his tone softened into a parody of gentleness.

"It it helps you make your decision, I could heal you. I can sense how broken you are; your grace is in ragged shards. I could make you whole, as you once were."

Castiel closed his eyes, swallowed, and finally got a word out, and then another. The two people more important to Dean than any other, including himself.

"Sam? Bobby?"

Michael was quiet.

"They resisted all my offers. I could not change their minds, so I had to take action against them. Hopefully, you won't be the same, Castiel?"

Castiel gasped, and the tears flooded down his face. He pressed a hand against his mouth to stifle the noise, but Michael had certainly heard. The thought of Sam and Bobby's last sight being their brother and almost son turning on them, killing them with an angelic smile on his face. It was too much.

Michael waited until his sobs had subsided, until the agonizing grief subsided into numbness. The pain in his chest, the ragged edges of his grace all cycloned down into white noise. Then he spoke again.

"So, Cas. What'll it be?"


	4. Heartbeat

I saw a post on tumblr and needed to write this.

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Dean Winchester had said stay, and so he had. After everything was over, Castiel stood in a dim motel room, like so many others, watching over the two sleeping boys who'd (yet again) saved the world. There were bruises and breaks, and some injuries less visible that would never truly heal on all of them, but for now the night was quiet. Peaceful.

Castiel was sitting at the table, fulfilling his guardian role by protecting Sam and Dean as they slept. He was tired, exhausted really, as angels shouldn't be, but he'd refused a bed, or the more comfortable armchair, in favor of watching. He needed to watch.

He watched as Sam-energy gone, depleted by the trials-turned over slowly, his movements painful even in sleep. He would take long to recover. He huffed into the pillow, face scrunching up before relaxing. Castiel wanted to look deeper, see if his mind was at rest, but his powers too were depleted by the day, and he didn't feel able to even get up from the chair.

Dean was in the bed closer to him, still and silent. The painkillers he'd taken to help the fractured wrist and hand, and dislocated shoulder had made him loose and floppy before he fell fast asleep. Sam said that was normal, that pain killers like those always knocked Dean flat. But now, he was still, too still.

Castiel, against his will, remembered in a flash the many many times he'd seen a similar sight, the motionless body of his friend. Bodies, repeated over and over in different positions but always still. Just like he was now. Castiel remembered having a break, being able to stand above the Dean doppelganger he'd just killed for a moment or two, and just look. His chest never moved, his face was pale and lax.

The moonlight spread across Dean's face,the real Dean in the room, and made it look just as waxy, as lifeless. Castiel held himself still, reminded himself that he could hear two sets of breathing in the room if he held his own breath, that Dean's chest still rose.

Sam snorted, making him jump, his heartbeat accelerating for no other reason but fear. It was ridiculous, he knew that Dean was alive. In the aftermath of Sam's racket, Castiel listened for Dean's breathing again. Where was it?

His eyes snapped to Dean on the bed, and the man was there, still like he'd been. Was his chest moving? Castiel couldn't be sure. His breath came quicker, far too quick to be healthy.

"Dean," He whispered, and his voice was shaky.

With a scrambled that was in no way angelic, Castiel shot from the chair, and was at Dean's side. He reached out, and felt his pulse. It took a moment to find it (mostly because his hands were trembling, his logical mind informed him coolly) before there was a solid thub dub against his fingertips.

Castiel felt limp with relief, sinking to his knees at the side of the bed without removing his pointer and middle fingers from the assurance of Dean's heartbeat. He breathed out, his breath wavery and almost thick with a sob. Dean was fine. He wasn't dead, not like he'd been a thousand times in Heaven. Castiel thought he could stay right here for the rest of the night, but at that moment, Dean stirred.

Castiel should have pulled back, before Dean could be aware of what he was doing, but Castiel was frozen, unwilling to lose the feeling of life under his hands. He stayed still, his hand against Dean's collar bone, his fingers where he'd placed them.

Dean shifted, moved his head, and blinked at him.

"...C's?" Dean asked. He blinked again. "Wha's wrong?"

Half asleep, Dean fumbled up to his neck, where Castiel's hand still was, and found his fingers still pressed against the pulse. Castiel could not answer Dean's question, not without admitting what had frightened him. But as Castiel simply stared at him, Dean seemed to understand. His hand gripped Castiel's, squeezed and then pulled it away from his neck. Castiel could not contain a small noise of protest.

"Hey, you don't need that. I'm alive, okay. And I'm not going anywhere, you can bet your ass." Dean said, softly so as to not wake Sam. Castiel swallowed, his hand still in Dean's grip, before nodding.

"You okay now?" Dean asked after a minute. Castiel shifted back on his heels, letting his hands slid out of Dean's and into his lap.

"I'm fine."

Dean nodded, and shifted around, deeper into his pillow with a wince. Castiel wished he could spare the energy to heal him.

"Well, just poke me or something, next time, kay?" Dean said, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. When Castiel didn't move, he met his eyes again. "You want half the bed? You look wiped."

Castiel shook his head, and stood. "I'll resume my watch." He moved back to the chair, heart calm and his breathing normal. Dean smirked a little, barely seen by the light of the alarm clock.

"Still creepy as hell, dude." But he didn't look like he minded. Dean dropped off to sleep again quickly, still under the influence of those pain pills. Castiel sat there relaxed, taking comfort in the fact that Dean's breathing didn't once slow or stutter or stop like it had in Heaven, but was steady and smooth all night.


End file.
